US Marshall 01 - Cold Ridge (15 page)

"Got back from where?"

"Town. We were leaf-collecting."

"I should-never mind."

"I know it's hard, Val, but he'll make it through this thing. We all will."

"What other choice is there?" She was grumbling, worried and out of sorts, but she didn't sound as fragile as she'd been six months ago. "Manny's not talking to you, either, is he?"

Instinctively, despite his own frustration with his friend, North found himself offering a defense. "Manny doesn't have a lot of room to maneuver."

But Val wasn't one to cut anyone, herself included, much slack. "How much maneuvering does it take to dial a goddamn phone? Okay, never mind. That's not why I called. Look-I'm driving myself crazy here with the computer. You don't happen to know his password?"

"Why would I know his password?"

"I don't know. He tells you things he doesn't tell me. I thought if he knew he might be in deep trouble, he'd maybe clue you in on how you could help him if he really got in over his head."

"I don't know how to help him, Val. I wish I did."

"He's hamstrung. He can't do a damn thing except smile at the cops."

If I can't function…I've got computer files…you'll remember.

Hell, North thought. Only Manny. "Try
I love Val.
"

"What?"

"For the password. Manny said something to me yesterday at the hotel. It didn't make sense at the time-"

"What, that he loves me?" she asked in that wry Val tone.

"No, that he felt the need to mention it. Christ, Val, you can be irritating."

He heard her tapping her keyboard. "It didn't work, so there. Wait, let me try-" She gulped in a breath.

"Bingo! I'll be damned, North, that's it! I used a
u
for love and one
v.
I'm in.
I-l-u-v-a-l.
"

"Val-"

"I knew you'd know. I wish I'd thought of you ten million failed passwords ago. I'm surprised this thing didn't self-destruct like in
Mission Impossible,
just start smoking."

"Val, what's on the screen-"

But it was as if her mind was inside the computer. "I'll call you back if I find anything interesting. Watch, it'll just be a spreadsheet of how much he's won in the football pool. He loves those damn spreadsheets."

She clicked off, and Ty could have thrown his phone out the window. He adored Val-everyone did, just like everyone adored Manny. They were straightforward, high energy, fighters. But both of them could drive Ty straight up the wall if he let them.

I love Val.

Why hadn't the big oaf just said it was his goddamn password?

The cop with the PalmPilot, probably. Manny wouldn't want to tip her off. But if he had anything on Louis Sanborn, anything that could help his situation, he needed to be spilling it to the damn police, not making cryptic remarks to a PJ buddy.

Maybe whatever was in the files
didn't
help his situation.

Or maybe there was nothing in his files, North thought, and he and Val were just grasping at straws, trying to help a friend and husband who may have lost it two days ago and blown a man away. It'd been a rough year for Manny. He shouldn't have retired. He needed a couple more years to get Eric out of school, Val back on her feet and in a new job. Starting his own business-it was a different world for Manny Carrera, unfamiliar territory.

But he hadn't lost it. He hadn't blown Louis San-born-or whoever he was-away in Boston on Wednesday.

Ty rousted Stump out of a hole he was digging in the backyard and joined the Winters in the kitchen, the uncle and the auburn-haired, blue-eyed niece arguing over butternut squash. Bake or boil. Nutmeg or cinnamon. Real butter or the soft stuff made with olive oil. Boiling won out, because there wasn't enough room in the oven with the clay pot.

Carine retreated with Stump to the front room to sit by the fire, and Ty wondered if he looked as agitated and frustrated as he was, as ready to get into his truck and charge down to Boston.

"You were afraid you'd die on her this year." Gus's quiet words caught him off guard. "You knew what kind of missions you had coming up. She'd just had that business with those assholes shooting at her. What happened to her parents up on the ridge is a part of her- you see that. You let it spook you."

Ty sat at the table; the small kitchen was steamed up, smelling of chicken and baking onions. "Gus, you're off base. I can't do my job if I'm worried about dying. But I'm not going there with you."

"You're not getting my point. You can't do your job if you know she's back home worried about you dying." Gus glanced up from his cutting board. "That's the devil, isn't it?"

Ty watched him dump the deep orange squash into a pan of water on the stove. The man had done combat in the Central Highlands of Vietnam. An infantryman. A kid plucked out of the mountains of northern New England and sent off to fight a war he didn't understand. He'd probably thought about his family back home worrying about him.

But it didn't matter-Ty's relationship with Carine was for them to sort out. "You know you could make soup out of that squash?"

Gus returned to his cutting board for another chunk of squash. "Butternut squash soup is a favorite at the local inns. They put a little apple in it, sometimes a little curry."

"I'd rather have apple than curry, wouldn't you?"

"North…I was out of line." Gus sighed, his paring knife in his hand as he brushed his wrist across his brittle gray hair. "You and Carine-what's between you two is your business."

Ty grinned. "What have I been saying, huh?"

Gus pointed his knife at him. "You're going to live to be an old man, North, just to torment the rest of us."

"And you're going to kill yourself with your own cooking." Ty was on his feet, frowning at the stove. "What the hell's that in the frying pan?"

"Braised Brussels sprouts with olive oil and a little parmesan."

"Jesus. I think I've got an extra MRE out in the truck."

Gus threw him out of the kitchen, and Ty joined Carine in front of the fire. He sat on the couch, and she sat on the floor with her back against his knees, comfortable with him, he thought-and for a moment, it was almost as if he'd never knocked on her cabin door and canceled their wedding.

Carine climbed onto her favorite rock on the lower ridge trail and looked out at the valley and mountains, the view that had captivated her since she was a little girl. It was midmorning, the trees, even the evergreens, almost navy blue against the bleak gray sky. If only she could stand here and let her worries and questions float out on a breeze, dissipate into the wilderness.

She remembered Gus taking her and her brother and sister onto the ridge after their parents died. She'd dreamed about that day for years. She spotted an eagle and swore she saw her mum and dad flying with it in the clear summer sky. The image had been so vivid, so absolutely real to her.

But, so had her dreams, her images, of her life with Ty. So vivid, so real.

She half walked, half slid down the curving granite, rejoining him on the narrow, difficult trail. They'd gone far enough. Neither had the attention span for a long hike. They'd loaded up a day pack after breakfast and set out, crossing the meadow, climbing over a stone wall, then walking up a well-worn path to the trailhead. The dirt access road was quiet, the parking lot empty, not atypical of November. It was Saturday, but still early.

There was a threat of light snow and high winds above the treeline. They weren't going that far, but Carine had gone back to her cabin and dug out her lighter winter layers for the hike. Thermal shirt, windproof fleece jacket, windproof pants, hat, gloves. Her hat and gloves were still in the day pack. She wore her new hiking socks. No cotton-she'd even banned it from her summer hikes.

Ty had approved of her wilderness medical kit, but he'd raised his eyebrows when she tucked the manual into the pack. "Look at it this way," she told him. "If I fall and hit my head, you won't need the manual. If you fall and hit your head, I'll need the manual."

"Only if I'm unconscious."

"Of course, because if you can talk, you'll just tell me what to do."

"If I'm conscious," he said, leaning toward her in that sexy way he had, "I'll treat myself."

She told him she had treating blisters down pat. She knew CPR and basic first aid. She'd have done her best if Louis Sanborn had still been alive when she found him. But Antonia was the doctor in the family-Carine didn't like blood and broken bones, people in pain. Not that Antonia, or Ty, did, but they had a calling when it came to medicine that she simply didn't have.

Of course, Ty's calling also involved guns, diving, fast-roping and the insanity of HALO-High Altitude Low Opening jumping, where he would depart a plane at very high altitudes, with oxygen, a reserve chute, a medical kit and an M16, the bare necessities to survive the jump and get to a crew downed in hostile conditions.

Not that
he
thought HALO was insane. Just another tool in his PJ tool bag of skills, he'd say.

Carine respected his skills and abilities, his nonchalance about them, but she wasn't intimidated, perhaps because they seemed so natural to him, integral to who he was.

She'd spent an hour last night in his kitchen answering questions from the two Boston Police Department detectives, who had been sent to take possession of the memory disk, camera and camera bag. It hadn't occurred to her to have an attorney present. After they left, her brother called on Ty's hard line, which meant Ty could listen in on the extension as Nate told her in no uncertain terms to go mountain climbing today. He wouldn't go into detail about anything he'd found out, but Nate wasn't one to overreact. Although he never said so directly, Carine received the strong implication that her brother had talked to his law enforcement sources and had good reason to make sure his friend and his sister stayed out of what was apparently not a simple case of murder.

After she hung up with Nate, Ty tried to call Manny, got his voice mail and almost threw his phone into the fire. He tried Val Carrera, also without success.

Carine had her Nikon with her on the hike and took several pictures, anything that struck her eye. Ty had said little all morning. In action, she thought, was getting to him. She knew he wanted to be in Boston, pulling information out of Manny Carrera, a syllable at a time if he had to.

She slipped the camera into an outer pocket of the day pack, strapped to his back. "Hiking can be a substitute for my run," she said.

"Nope. You hike, then you go back and do your run."

"Says who?"

He grinned over his shoulder at her. "That's something we hear a lot in the military. 'Says who?'"

He was teasing her, a good sign his mood had improved. "Fortunately, I'm not in the military. I'm just a simple photographer who wants to run a mile and a half in ten minutes and thirty seconds or less."

"You can do it. How close are you?"

"Twelve minutes. Well, once, anyway. I'll get there. I told you, it's the swimming that kills me. I always get water up my nose." She zipped up the compartment and patted him on the hip. "Tell you what, Sergeant, if you run with me, I'll do my mile and a half after we get back."

"Think I can't?"

"I think you need to burn off more excess energy than this little hike of ours will accomplish. You're not sleeping, Ty. You were up at dawn again this morning."

"Dawn's not that early in November."

"You're preoccupied, worried about Manny-and Val-"

"Having you down the hall isn't the greatest sleep-inducer, either."

She sighed. "Ty, it's not always about sex."

"It's not?"

"I am trying-"

He winked at her. "I know you are, babe. Don't worry about me. I'm doing just fine." He started down the trail, moving easily over the roots and jutting rocks. "One thing, though. You're not a simple anything, but you're sure as hell not a simple photographer. You're a brilliant photographer."

"You don't have to say that."

"Yes, I do." He held out his arm for her to grab as she jumped off a two-foot rock in the middle of the trail. "You have the talent, the skills, the drive. I look at your pictures-I can't explain it. There's something going on there. I know it's nothing I or most people could do with one of those little throwaway things."

She was taken aback. "I appreciate that. Really. Thank you."

He continued down the trail, not taking any time to enjoy the scenery. "When we get back, I'll try Val again. Then I'm heading down to Boston to see Manny. You can hang out with Gus and Stump. It's the slow season. You two can wax skis. Argue about squash recipes."

"I'd rather go to Boston with you."

"I know you would."

"I could get my car, water my plants-"

He glanced back at her. "You don't have any plants."

She kept up with his killing pace, no more pauses to check out the view or pick up the perfect fallen leaf. The steep pitch of the trail eased into a long, gentle downward slope, the trail widening as it took them over a stream and back out to the parking area. When they reached the meadow, the wind gusted and howled down the mountains from the north, blowing an icy snow in their faces.

But the snow ended abrupty as they crossed into Ty's backyard and didn't even cover the ground. The sun beamed white through a thin cloud. Dark, lumpy clouds shifted over the valley, and the long, looming ridge with its high summits. Carine, more aware of the sky than she'd ever been in the city, tried to remember various cloud formations-stratocumulus, lenticular, cirrostratus. Each was associated with its own particular weather, but she was rusty on which was which.

Ty left the back door open for her, and she didn't linger outside. The wind blew into the kitchen, where the fire was almost out. He set the day pack on the table. When the phone rang, Carine, who was closer, picked it up. She didn't even get a chance to say hello. " Tyler? It's Val Carrera. The police are at my damn door with a search warrant."

"Val, it's Carine. Ty-"

Val didn't seem to hear her. "I'm sorry I didn't call back last night. At first I was too stunned, and then I fell asleep at the computer. I tried this morning but didn't get through-Jesus, Ty, he's got all kinds of garbage in these files. PJ stuff. Football scores. I
told
you I'd find football scores. At least I didn't find any porn."

"Slow down, okay? Let me get-"

She was talking rapidly, breathless. Ty made a move for the phone, but Carine was afraid they'd miss something important if she tried to transfer it to him with Val so oblivious to who was on the other end.

"He's got your e-mail address here. I'm sending you the file I think we're interested in. Jesus, will they break down the door if I don't answer?" She yelled, away from the phone, "I'm coming! Hang on a sec!" Then she returned, adding in a lower voice, "They'll haul off his hard drive. You know damn well they will."

In spite of her tough language, Val sounded panicked and fragile. Carine held up a hand, stopping Ty from ripping the phone from her. "I'll tell Ty-"

"It looks like Manny suspected Louis Sanborn was using an alias and having an affair with Jodie Rancourt, maybe extorting money from her. Something. I haven't gone through it all. I hope it doesn't get Manny into hotter water with the police."

Carine went still. "Manny suspected Louis and Jodie were having an affair
before
he got to Boston?"

"Yeah. I think so. Carine? Is that you?"

Ty snatched the phone. "Val, what the hell's going on?" He listened a moment, then said, "Open the damn door for the police. Do what they tell you. For Christ's sake, don't argue with them. Do you have a gun in the house? Val-" He glared at the phone then sighed at Carine. "She's gone."

"Did you get anything more out of her?"

"I need to check my e-mail. Jesus, those two." He looked ready to kick something. "We don't know what Manny's told the police. Goddamn it, we don't know anything."

Carine knelt down to see if she could revive the coals in the fireplace. She blew on them, and a few glowed red. She lifted a skinny log out of the woodbox and laid it on the coals, trying not to suffocate them, the familiar work only a partial counter to her tension.

She'd found Louis dead, but the Carreras were Ty's friends more than they were hers. He and Manny had been in combat together.

"Go on," she said. "Check your e-mail for what Val sent. I'll join you in a minute."

But Ty came behind her and hooked an arm around her waist, lifting her to her feet and kissing her softly, unexpectedly.Hethreadedhisfingersgentlythroughher hair. "This'll all work out. You know that, don't you?"

She wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself, but she nodded. "Manny's a rock. Val, too, in her own way."

He headed to the den, and Carine returned to the fire, the log catching with no additional effort on her part. Nate could have called last night and encouraged her to go mountain climbing because he'd found out Louis's murder involved blackmail, extortion, an adulterous affair-people with connections to her and Cold Ridge.

She set another log on her reborn fire, then made her way down the hall to the den. With the gray sky, it seemed more like late afternoon than midday. Ty didn't look up from the monitor. "I downloaded Val's file. It looks like some kind of personal log Manny kept."

Carine resisted the temptation to read over his shoulder. "I'll leave you to it."

She returned to the kitchen and put another larger log on the fire, then stood in front of it, her fingers splayed out over the flames. She remembered those crazy few days last November with the shooting and the Ran-courts' rescue, Ty grinning at her and calling her babe, telling her she had pretty eyes, as if he'd never noticed her in all the years they'd known each other. He and Manny Carrera sneaking around after the shooters and pulling Jodie and Sterling Rancourt off the ridge like it was no big deal-and Hank Callahan, the retired air force officer, the senate candidate. They'd all gathered in front of the fire here in Ty's kitchen and eaten chili and drunk beer, talking late into the night-she remembered Ty insisting on walking her back to her cabin as if it wasn't something she'd done on her own a thousand times when his mother was alive. It was cold and so still they could hear their footsteps on the dirt driveway, and when they got to her door, he kissed her good-night.

That
was when she should have fled to Boston, not six months later after the damage was done.

He walked into the kitchen and pulled out a chair, turning it so that he could face the fire. He sat down, sighing heavily, collecting his thoughts. "Manny figured going into business for himself would be good for Val and Eric, that it'd give him more freedom to make his own schedule. But he hates it. He doesn't like the work, he doesn't like the people he has to work with. He'd have given it up if the Rancourts hadn't hired him."

"Funny how these things work out sometimes," Carine said, still on her feet.

"He was in Cold Ridge in September to visit Eric. I wasn't here. Neither were you. Gus was on a hiking trip. While Eric was in class one morning, Manny drove up to the Rancourt house to see if anyone might be up there, get the lay of the land so he could make recommendations. It was just something to do, really." He paused, glanced up at Carine. "Guess who was there?"

"Jodie? She's come up here on her own a number of times."

Ty nodded. "Yep. She was here. With Louis Sanborn."

"In
September?
But the Rancourts only hired him two weeks ago. I didn't realize they already knew each other. Louis acted as if they didn't-"

"Sterling Rancourt didn't know Louis. Only Jodie."

"Oh." Carine sank onto a chair, wincing at the implications. "Ouch."

"Somehow or another, the rescue last fall made Sterling feel vulnerable, so he started paying more attention to his personal and corporate security. He hired Gary Turner, then Louis Sanborn. He got Manny in to consult."

"If Jodie and Louis were already having an affair, you'd think she would have tried to stop her husband from hiring Manny."

"For all we know, she tried. Manny met with Sterling Rancourt, Gary Turner and Louis Sanborn in Boston a few days after Sanborn was hired. He realized right off the bat that Sanborn was the same guy he met in September."